


Pretty Things With Teeth

by BigBoyParty



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst?, Chan's a creep, Dirty rowdy Jisung lives in a tent, Fairy minho w sharp teeth, Fantasy, M/M, Prince Hyunjin, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Harassment, Slow Burn, Violence, eventual Minsung - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-01-28 23:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21400312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBoyParty/pseuds/BigBoyParty
Summary: He was supposed to be smarter than this, run when you hear the bracelets, run when you hear the boots, run when the fireflies start to scatter from the brush in hordes. When the forest lights up, run. Fucking run but Minho was stupid and had fallen asleep and now he was sitting, body curled up protectively, in front of the king’s hunter with a knife to his throat.---Jisung is proud to be a hunter. He loves dragging fairies back to captivity for the prince, loves tearing their wings off painfully, and especially he loves getting rich. But Minho changes things somehow. As they both deal with Chan, Jisung's abusive boss, the fairy and the hunter begin forming a tenuous connection, and Jisung begins to question his purpose altogether.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Han Jisung | Han, Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 20
Kudos: 180





	1. Fireflies // The Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This is my first chaptered work, but i imagine future chapters will be much shorter and will have more steamy elements. There are several instances of sexual assault in this chapter, though usually not described at length or with a lot of detail. But there will be VENGEANCE AND RETRIBUTION ((((and minsung :) )))) in the future.

Jisung had two gold teeth. Fangs, with points subtle but sharp nonetheless. They were still extravagant though, flashing yellow under the light of the moon or the light of his cigarette when he laughed while he was lighting it. He didn’t belong in the forest, even though he was always fucking out there, boots crunching harshly in the dirt, scattering fireflies when he left another cigarette butt behind him. Most humans didn’t even go out into the woods anymore, especially not at night, when fairies came climbing out of the woodwork with sharp teeth and dark, glinting eyes. That’s why Jisung was paid so well, why he could even afford the teeth in the first place, why bracelets jingled lightly on his wrists with every step.

If Minho was smart, like the rest of them, he would have heard them. Those fucking bracelets. They jingled now as Jisung paced around him, long extravagant knife pointed at Minho’s throat. Minho clung to the bark of the tree behind him. He was supposed to be smarter than this, run when you hear the bracelets, run when you hear the boots, run when the fireflies start to scatter from the brush in hordes. When the forest lights up, run. Fucking run but Minho was stupid and had fallen asleep and now he was sitting, body curled up protectively, in front of the king’s hunter with a knife to his throat.

“Look at you. Pretty little thing,” Jisung angled the knife up against the fairy’s chin, making his head tilt up so Jisung could take in his delicately curved cheekbones and pointed nose. Minho grimaced, each of his short pointed teeth coming into the light, and lashed out to kick the hunter once, hard, in the shin. Jisung stumbled back, but only for a moment before his knife was slicing into Minho’s upper arm. Minho winced and rolled away and Jisung laughed, “You’ve got personality too. He’ll love that.” 

Jisung grabbed Minho’s wrist, bending his arm back uncomfortably to tie his hands together. Jisung was smaller than Minho, but fairies were so much lighter than humans. Easy to throw around as long as you avoided the teeth. He planted one foot on Minho’s back, pulling the rope tight so Minho couldn’t do any damage with his pointed nails before grabbing the fairy’s bound wrists and dragging him along the forest floor behind him, like he was nothing. Wings scraping on the ground, fracturing and breaking off in thin bloody petals.

This was how it always went with hunters, but Jisung was especially cruel about it. He seemed almost happy to hear Minho crying out as his wings were ripped from his body. Minho had heard that the past hunters weren’t like this, some of them cut the wings off cleanly once they had the fairy where they wanted them, leaving two smooth scars running parallel down the back. Minho remembers meeting someone with them once, they looked sad and hollow and showed all the children their scars to remind them to be safe. When the fireflies start rising, run. That’s what they always said.

Maybe at one point the wings were valuable. Jisung had thought about it before, cutting off a section and selling it to the highest bidder, but his boss paid him well enough and assured him repeatedly: “Don't worry about the wings. The prince doesn’t care about them, and they’re more trouble than they’re worth.” Jisung didn’t really mind anyway, he thought the fairies sounded so cute getting their pretty little wings ripped away. Thought they were so fucking special with their sharp teeth and magnificent shiny wings. They were nothing. Just things for the prince to play with.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of screaming and thrashing for Minho, they arrived at the edge of the woods, where another man’s cigarette glowed in the darkness. 

“I got one!” Jisung shouted, and god his voice was fucking grating. No wonder the fireflies all hated him. The man with the cigarette, larger than Jisung, turned around to face them. He had strong features, blond hair which was styled aggressively to make up for being damaged, dressed in expensive-looking clothing with hands that looked like they could crush the bones in Minho’s arm without so much as a second thought.

Minho didn’t know this man. He had heard stories about the king, but this was someone else. Someone in between. His eyes combed over Minho’s body with a cruel uninhibited lust.

“A pretty one, too. Hyunjin’s gonna love him.” Hyunjin. That was the prince. No one referred to him by name. The man smiled and reached down with one perfectly manicured hand, holding his fingers under to Minho’s nose like he was attempting to acquaint himself with a stray cat. Minho reacted on instinct. He bit down, hard.

Sweet, hot blood flooded Minho’s mouth for a moment, before the man’s boot made swift contact with his chest, kicking him until he let go. The man hissed and cradled his hand, “Muzzle him.”

And so they did, and dragged him back to wherever they took the fairies when they were captured. Minho didn’t know, no one who had been there ever came back. Maybe he could talk himself into being curious about it if his head wasn’t getting so light from being carried over the man’s shoulder like a sack of flour.

Minho didn’t know this, but his head was also getting light from a needle Jisung was jamming into his leg. He didn’t know much of anything once the drug entered his bloodstream.

Chan was a good boss. Jisung always had to remind himself of that, when the larger man dropped the fairy unceremoniously onto the concrete floor, locking the door tight before approaching Jisung.

“Good work today, kid.” Chan always had this little smirk when he looked at Jisung. Part curious, part condescending, entirely uncomfortable to receive.

“Thanks.” Jisung glanced at the fairy, then back to his boots.

“Let me see those teeth.” They weren’t for him. Jisung got the teeth because they were cool and because he was rich now and they weren’t for Chan to fucking look at like that. But he paid well, so Jisung flashed a quick smile and let out an awkward laugh.

Apparently this was more than enough for Chan, who smiled and bit his lip like someone so horny they forgot it was a weird thing to do this aggressively. His hand traveled to Jisung’s face, rough palm on the younger’s soft cheek. “What a gorgeous smile. Let me see them again.” Jisung’s eyes wrinkled a little. This was gross. He grimaced like someone being fitted for braces, and Chan just smiled, letting out a little chuckle. It wasn’t for him why did he act like everything was for him.

“Look at you,” his thumb wandered dangerously close to Jisungs mouth, “Just like one of them, huh?” His squeezed around Jisung’s waist and pulled him abruptly into a hug that lingered a little longer than necessary. 

Jisung could feel Chan’s boner against him. “Boy,” the elder said. His hands were firm, nearly suffocating, slipping down just a moment to grope Jisung’s ass. And then Chan was pushing a wad of rolled up bills into his hand and was on his way.

If the fireflies scattered when Jisung walked in a forest, here they were practically swarming. Minho could almost hear the buzzing of the wings, see the human’s small figure bent over him. His vision was fuzzy, but he could see a dim glimmer when Jisung’s mouth opened momentarily and a fang came into view. His back felt lighter than earlier. He couldn’t see it, but Minho knew that his wings were gone. Not just torn down anymore, but gone. He felt naked. 

Under heavy eyelids, Minho watched Jisung wrap the wound on his arm. Not careful, but still, it was wrapped. “Poor thing.” Jisung tilted Minho’s head back, lifted his eyelid up with one thumb to look at his sparkling, unfocused eyes. “So cute,” Jisung mumbled under his breath. Minho was losing consciousness again, but he felt the burn when Jisung dabbed some kind of solution onto the long slits in his back,

In the morning, the sun was hot and heavy on the little alcove where Minho was housed. Jisung fucking hated it. His job paid well, but god what he wouldn’t give to not have to sleep out in the woods outside of some fairy's cage. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, slid on some jeans and a jacket that didn’t smell too bad. He had to do laundry in town soon, but he never wanted to walk all that way. Stepping out of his tent, he saw the cute fairy curled up asleep in his cage.

Jisung lit up a cigarette and watched him sleep. The cage was pretty, almost ironically so, a concrete platform with this hole in the middle where a pink flowering tree grew. It was romantic, branches sprawling out between elegant wrought iron bars. The prince liked it that way, but it didn’t make it any more comfortable to be sleeping on the forest floor.

“Hey,” Jisung said, stretching and cracking his back. The fairy didn’t even stir. “Yo!” Jisung tossed his cigarette butt into the cage and it landed on the fairy’s cheek. Jisung laughed when the fairy grimaced and smacked it away. “You’re going to meet the prince today, are you excited?” Minho frowned and turned away,

“Fuck off.” Jisung laughed,

“Look who’s talking. I’ll be honest, sometimes I forget pretty things like you can even talk.” Minho looked so cute, turning over momentarily to shoot Jisung a glare before passing out again. 

Jisung didn’t know what kind of drugs they gave the fairies, he only ever got them from Chan, but they certainly worked like a charm. Right now, Minho was knocked out while Jisung swept the fairy’s cage and sprinkled flower petals around him. Honestly, he thought it was pretty fucking stupid to be putting on such a fuss about the prince’s new toy. He knew what would happen: the prince would see him and “fall in love” only to fall out of it just as quickly when the fairy was understandably disinterested in being his pet. Eventually the fairy would get passed along to Chan, who would do all kinds of unsightly things to them before snapping their neck and leaving them somewhere to rot back into the earth.

This new fairy was so pretty, Jisung thought, it was a shame to know he would be dead and gone within the month.

It wasn’t long before Jisung heard Chan and the prince’s footsteps approaching the clearing. He set aside his broom and took a reluctant knee. Jisung would probably be executed if he said anything about it, but he couldn’t stand the prince. He was pretentious and spoiled and of course had to be absolutely fucking gorgeous, as if his daddy wouldn’t just pay someone to go fetch him another fairy to have sex with whenever he got sick of the last one. Chan was really selling this one, “You’ll be really happy with him, Hyunjin. He’s just the way you like.”

“Oh really?” Hyunjin was close now, and tapped Jisung gently with his foot, “Hello boy.” Boy. Hyunjin wasn’t even that much older than him.

“Hello sir.”

“You can stand.” And Jisung did, fists balled up by his sides.

Minho was still asleep in his cage when Chan and Hyunjin entered, the long scars on his back shifting with every rise and fall of his breath. Hyunjin approached the cage, practically shoving his face up against the bars.

“It’s so cute,” Hyunjin cooed with a smile. “What happened to his arm?”

“Ah, he was just scared when we got him. Lashed out and got me pretty bad,” Chan held up his bandaged hand as an example. “Jisung had to teach him a little lesson.” It wasn’t what happened at all, but the prince seemed satisfied with Chan’s explanation. So gullible. Jisung wondered why such stuipd people always had all the power.

“Poor baby.” Hyunjin crouched down, hanging onto the bars on either side of his face. The prince frowned, “He’s not very exciting.” 

“He’s just asleep. Don't worry, this one’s got a real personality on him, isn’t that right Jisung?” Jisung just nodded and smiled vaguely. Chan was a good boss, but he was never patient when they were around royalty. Jisung had to be on his best behavior or else it would be rough hands around his throat, his face pressed against the pavement, and bloodstains in his underwear for days. That was just once, but once was enough to make him watch himself. “Why don't you go wake him up for us, boy?”

“Yes sir,” Jisung kept his head down and entered the cage, broom in hand. The door squeaked shut behind him,

A sharp, annoying jab. Right in the fucking arm, where he was bandaged, and Minho’s eyes shot open, black and glittering, his sharp teeth chomping down on the end of the broomstick. Jisung shouted “HEY,” and yanked the broom out of Minho’s mouth, pushing him back with one boot on his chest before slowly backing out of the cage again. Was this how he got woken up now? Getting fucking hit with a stick and then kicked in the chest? Minho missed the forest.

There were other people here now too, the blonde man from last night and someone else. Tall and strikingly handsome, with opulent-looking clothes which contrasted his childish demeanor. “Hi, pretty thing.” The man reached one hand through the bars towards Minho, who merely sat where he was and glared. “Look at you. Scared, huh?” Minho scowled and sank back against the trunk of the flowering tree, skin burning under Hyunjins big watery eyes. 

“He’s a looker, isn’t he.” The older man again.Talking like he was trying to sell a horse.

“He is... Don't worry, pet, we’ll have you home soon okay?” Hyunjin spoke in this soft, melodic baby voice. Minho hated it, it made his ears ache, and he snapped.

“Fuck you.” 

Hyunjin smiled and straightened up immediately. He pulled out his wallet, eyes still scanning over Minho’s body, and handed a few bills to Chan: “He’s pretty. Break him in for me.” And then the prince was gone.

_ “He’s pretty. Break him in for me.” _

These words had been spoken before, and every time he heard them Jisung shuddered, knowing this was where he’d end up. Curled up in his tent, blankets thrown over his head, body curled up and shivering while he heard them.

The squeal of the wrought iron door.

“Hey there, pretty thing...Sound asleep huh?” A sharp kick, and a grunt.

Jisung’s toes curled in his sleeping bag.

There was a scuffle, bodies thrashing against the ground. The fairy’s little voice, 

“Stop- Fucking. Stop it, get off of me.” He could hear the tears in the fairy’s tone, could hear his boss chuckle and the sound of another impact.

“You really are pretty. He’s gonna love you.” It was inevitable. Jisung heard a crunch, and Chan’s distinctive shout: “FUCK.” A harsh slap, and then another. Again and again. This was the worst part. The fairy whined, and then groaned softly. Jisung bit his knuckle, digging those shiny gold fangs in until it hurt enough to distract him from the sound outside.

A body dragging against the pavement. The fairy’s muffled grunting after a while, and Chan’s moans. He moaned so fucking loud, laughing every once in while, proud and obscene while the fairy sobbed quietly underneath him. Jisung knew those moans himself. He bit down harder. His hands tasted like cigarettes and sweat. “Stupid fucking fairy.” Jisung could hear it all. “It it were my choice I’d rip those stupid little teeth right out of your head.” He could hear Minho cry out, Chan’s balls smacking against his ass.

He heard everything, then a loud grunt and Minho’s body flopping down against the pavement. Jisung fell asleep sucking blood from two small punctures on his hand.

Minho wondered if he would ever sleep again. The fireflies screamed in his ears, and he cried until his body shook and his eyes ran out of fluids to produce.

In the morning, Jisung’s vision was blurry and his mouth tasted of old blood. The birds in the trees seemed unnecessarily cheerful, a few crows breaking up their songs and cicadas screaming in the distance. He removed himself from his blankets, walked to the other side of his tent and grabbed a couple gallons of water. Jisung had tried to make the tent nice for himself. It was large, with several thick foam pads for sleeping on at one end and coolers full of food and water on the other. He kept the trash outside, washed himself with bottled water or, if he was feeling particularly rustic, would walk out to the river nearby. Lately he’s just been waking up, washing his hands, and rinsing his mouth out with water. His gums were inflamed around the new teeth, but he ignored it. He had to ignore a lot of things for the promise of a better life later.

He knew he would have to get out of the tent. He would have to, he always did, and he needed a cigarette anyway, but it was always harder on these mornings. Jisung grabbed a cigarette, a pack of pop tarts, a washcloth, and some water. He took a deep breath, then stepped outside.

There was blood on the pavement.

Minho lay crumpled up against the tree. The brown leather muzzle was still over his face, and his eyes were just barely shut. The clothes he had been given were scattered around the cage, leaving the fairy naked and sweating under the sun. Jisung unlocked the cage as quietly as possible and slipped inside.

“Hey, buddy.” Jisung hated this part. He hated having to clean up Chan’s messes. Jisung reached for the fairy’s muzzle and instantly, Minho snapped awake with a gasp, flinching away from him. “You’re fine, I’m just taking off the muzzle.” Jisung’s fingers worked with the clasps by Minho’s ears and the mask fell to the ground.

Minho’s mouth was ringed with spit and dried blood. His eyes flashed and he pulled his hand away at first when Jisung tried handing a bottle of water to him. “It’s okay, dude. Just drink some. You need it.” And so Minho took it. Drank desperately, like he hadn’t seen water in years. His throat bobbed and he crumpled the bottle up as he did it, gasping for air and wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. Jisung soaked the washcloth with water and Minho watched his every movement. Jisung hated the fairies, but he almost felt bad for this one. “You know, it’s easier if you don't bite.” Jisung moved slowly toward the fairy and held his hand out. After a long wait, the fairy’s small sharp-nailed hand was in his palm so he could dab gently at the part on the side of the fairy’s hand where the skin had scraped against the pavement. “He’ll just give you to Chan if you keep doing it. It’s better to be with the prince.” Minho was silent, staring off into the distance without any expression, so Jisung just sighed and continued wiping the blood from Minho’s hands, then his face and scraped-up shoulders. And then the fairy spoke:

“What’s with the teeth?”

“Oh. I just thought they looked cool.”

“They’re kind of appropriative.” Minho’s face didn’t shift when he said it, but Jisung let out a little snort, teeth flashing.

“They’re just teeth. Here,” he passed Minho the water and washcloth, “You should probably. Um. Y’know.” Jisungs eyes flicked from Minho’s face to his crotch to his face and back again.

Right.

Minho held the washcloth in his hand, letting it drip down on the pavement below. His mind kept slipping back into moments from the night before: Chan’s hands squeezing his hips, the bitter taste of Chan’s blood, the feeling of his breath against the muzzle. Images Minho fought back like the very memory of it would mean his end. Slowly, Minho shifted and brought the washcloth between his legs. Ow. He hissed. Thankfully, Jisung had left by this point, so Minho could almost convince himself he had privacy when he looked at the washcloth and found it streaked with blood and old cum. Chan’s rough hands were around his neck again, pinning him down, staring into his eyes while he sobbed.

When Jisung emerged from his tent again, Minho was frozen. Still squatting, bloody washcloth in one hand, staring straight ahead with an empty gaze. This had happened before, but not often. Only when Chan had been particularly violent, which wasn’t shocking with a biter like Minho, but still. Jisung re-entered the cage and tossed some clothes at Minho. “Here. The prince will give you something nicer when he buys you, but it’s better than nothing.”

The fairy moved so slowly. Jisung almost felt bad for watching, but the fairy was pretty and no one could fault him for looking at his slender hips and sharp collar bone. Even the way Minho’s legs quivered when he climbed into Jisung’s sweatpants was pretty, some fierce energy bound up underneath his current fear. Jisung watched Minho dress himself and climb into the tree to curl up among its branches and petals, before starting to wash the fairy’s blood from the concrete. Their silence was almost peaceful, perhaps falsely so, with Minho lying silently in the branches and the quiet sound of Jisung’s brush and water against the ground.

It didn’t make any sense. This was the same man who had threatened Minho with a knife, who had grabbed his bound wrists and dragged him along the forest floor so his wings tore painfully from his back but now he was just cleaning. He had helped Minho wash his wounds, given him clothes. Minho wrinkled his nose. The smell of cigarettes still rose from the fabric. It was disgusting, but at least it distracted him from his thoughts. Minho scraped his nails along the bark and buried his face in the tree’s flowers.

Once was never enough for Chan. Jisung knew this. He knew that “breaking him in” meant many nights spent shivering and biting into his knuckles. He knew there would be more crying, more bleeding, more messes to clean up in the morning. There was nothing surprising about that night, the vague rhythmic sounds which were repulsive but at least sounded a little less violent than the night before. Maybe the fairy had learned to ease up a little, stop fighting. It sounded so much less terrifying once they stopped fighting. Fleshy sounds, Chan’s orgasmic grunt. “Look who’s decided to behave himself.” A kick that sounded particularly harsh and particularly unnecessary, and then quiet footsteps.

Nothing surprising, until Jisung heard the door to his tent unzipping. He should have locked it. Why did he stop locking it. Jisung buried himself deeper into his sleeping bag. He knew the sound of Chan’s footsteps. He knew the weight of Chan’s body slipping under the covers behind him, pressing up against the outside of the sleeping bag. “Why are you hiding, boy?” Chan murmured. Jisung tried playing dead, imagined his heart slowing down to a complete spot so he could be anywhere but here, with Chan’s arms wrapping around his sleeping bag. “Sleeping huh?” Chan had that smile in his voice. That fucking smile. There was nothing to smile about. 

Chan pulled the blankets away from Jisung’s face, and the younger man tried to make his face relax. This was hard enough with Chan pressed up against him, smelling like sex, but got even harder when Chan’s dirty fingers made their way to Jisung’s mouth. He pulled Jisungs lip back, scraped one finger over the boy’s fang with an obscene intake of breath. Chan wiped the younger man’s spit off on his soft cheek, wrapping his arms around Jisung and holding him in something between a deathgrip and a hug.

“What are you doing?’ Jisung said. Chan was a good boss. He had to act like he was just waking up.

“Just a little tired. Let me cuddle up with you.” So tired. Chan was grinding against his ass. Jisung whined,

“Chan, this is weird.” He shouldn’t have been surprised when Chan just squeezed him tighter:

“Calm down, I’m not even touching you. Just go back to sleep.”

Jisung couldn’t sleep, but he closed his eyes and shut his mouth and imagined he was somewhere else. The forest, dragging something pretty behind him, or studying his teeth in the mirror. Jisung wished he was surprised when Chan unzipped his sleeping bag, or when the elder’s hands ventured below his boxer briefs. He wished he was surprised when Chan put one hand over his mouth, shushing him gently while he forced his cock in Jisung’s hole. But he wasn’t surprised, and he spent the night staring at pinpricks of firefly light through the thin wall of his tent, moans ringing in his ears. 

In the morning, it was raining. Chan had left by now, only after calling Jisung a “good boy” and leaving him with cum leaking down his thigh. Jisung stared for a very long time at a small trickle of water coming in at one corner of his tent. No matter how hard he tried, there really was no way to waterproof a tent completely. Slowly, Jisung sat up. His bedding still smelled like Chan. He grabbed a cigarette and stepped outside.

The fairy was seated at the foot of the tree again, knees pulled up to his chest while the rain soaked through his thin t shirt. Jisung smoked his cigarette. Somewhere in the brush, a firefly flashed his light. 

“Do you have a name?” Jisung asked, smoke leaking out with each word. The fairy shifted. Rain pounded the pavement.

“Minho.” Minho looked so tired. “Do you?”

Jisung stared blankly, “Jisung.” 

The fairy and the hunter stared at each other with cold, empty eyes for a long long time.

Minho didn’t understand this man. He was wearing the same bracelets he could only afford thanks to his time spent slaughtering Minho’s community, and now he was asking for Minho’s name? Now he was staring at Minho with this look of pleading sadness, chewing on his cuticles with those stupid gold teeth. Maybe if Minho stared long enough at those big, wet eyes things would start making sense. Minho blinked and turned his head a little to the side. In an instant, their stare broke, Jisung starting towards the door.

“Come here,” Jisung said, walking quickly towards Minho. The fairy flinched away, but Jisung’s hand was already wrapping around his wrist and dragging him out of the cage, into his tent. Jisung shoved Minho inside and secured some kind of lock to the door’s zipper. Minho immediately pressed himself against the edge of the tent. Not again. It was so soon it couldn’t happen again already.

“Calm down,” Jisung said, and slipped the key into his own underwear. Truthfully, he didn’t know what was going through his mind either, but the fairy was so pretty and the rain was coming down too hard for anyone to be left outside, even a dumb toy for the prince. He cursed himself for not locking the tent’s door last night, but it was too late now. He shuffled around quickly, reaching into one of his coolers and putting some poptarts at Minho’s feet, grabbing some blankets. “Here,” he handed them to the fairy, “You’re all wet. Eat. Warm yourself up.”

Jisung pulled his own wet shirt off, changing into something dry, and Minho caught the slightest glimpse of some tattoo on his back. The hunter sat on his foam padding at one end of the tent, wrapping himself up in bedding, while Minho sat at the other. For a while, Jisung just stared at the leak again, so Minho ate. The food was gross, but he was starving and it went down easy. Cautiously, Minho wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, laying another over his lap. They smelled like the other man, the older one. Jisung startled out of his thoughts and gave the fairy a halfhearted smile. The two sat and ate slowly and listened to the rain on the roof of the tent. Eventually, Minho fell asleep. Jisung stared at the leak, then at the fairy, then at the leak again. He chewed at the scabs on his hands. Eventually, he fell asleep too.

Outside, fireflies awakened one at a time and rose slowly into the air.


	2. Leaves // The Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho has his first date with the prince, and Chan takes Jisung for a visit to his childhood home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the wait, here's chapter two. I'm hoping future chapters will come a lil quicker now that i'm on break from school, but we shall see. Also warning: there's some violence in this one.

Hyunjin met his own dark eyes in the mirror. He was gorgeous. Not to be vain or whatever, but that’s what everyone had always said. Gorgeous. He arranged one perfectly soft strand of brown hair with his perfectly manicured fingertips, inspected his skin for blemishes (not that he ever had any, except for that mole under his eye) then reached for the tweezers on his vanity. He didn’t always need tweezers on the vanity for this, but now it was pretty much daily. Routine.

Hyunjin opened his mouth wide. He squeezed his thumb in his fist and brought the tweezers to his mouth, pushing back towards his throat. Hyunjin’s eyes fluttered. He gagged a little, in spite of the fist he was making, and rolled his eyes in exasperation. The tweezers pushed past his gag reflex, landed on something deep in his throat, and twisted. This was routine, but it never stopped being unpleasant. Hyunjin pulled the tweezers from his mouth, opening them and letting them clatter to the sink along with one green ivy-like leaf, covered in blood. Hyunjin coughed once, spat blood in the sink, and turned to finish getting dressed.

Back in his cage, Minho was thinking of wings. He didn’t have much else to do. He remembers they used to be beautiful, thin and iridescent. His mother would rub his back and touch them gently, telling him how proud he should be. They were just like his fathers. His grandfather told him they used to be a mating strategy: wings were hard to maintain in the wilderness, and the bigger and more delicate your wings were, the better you must have been at surviving. They were all but vestigial now, but it was nice to know they would have meant something.

Honestly, Minho hadn’t cared that much about his wings until they were gone. When he had them, they were split like unhealthy fingernails, tattered in places from playing too roughly as a child. Lately, the scars had been itching lately. Not infected or anything, just itching in the way old scabs did. God, he could barely even reach his arms up anymore.  _ When the forest lights up, run. _ Minho heard footsteps, the sudden halt of Jisung’s gradual sweeping. Minho’s toes curled against the bark of the tree. He knew what today was, Jisung had been telling him about it all week in tones ranging from cruel joke to grim warning. Today he was meeting the prince.

“Stand, boy,” Minho recognized the voice of the man who had been bending him over at night for weeks. His grip tightened on the tree, body sinking low against his branch. The prince was down there, too. Tall and all buttoned-up in some shimmering light blue shirt, hair soft and perfectly maintained.

“Fairy!” Hyunjin called, trying to see where Minho was hiding among the flowers, “Why don't you come down and play?” Minho didn’t want to, but he knew better than to disobey. He didn’t want the other guy’s hands on him again, his own breath suffocating in his muzzle. He climbed down slowly.

“Good boy. I hear you’ve learned how to behave yourself now, huh?” Hyunjin cooed. Minho just swallowed his pride and nodded, not budging when the iron door squeaked open and Hyunjin entered the cage: “Pretty thing. We’re going to have so much fun together.”

-

Jisung tossed his laundry into the back of Chan’s truck and climbed into his seat. He hated the truck, it was too clean and too confined. Way too easy for the older man’s hand to land on his thigh, rubbing over it slowly. 

“You’ve been taking good care of this one,” Chan talked half to Jisung and half to himself as he started to drive, pulling off down a long dirt road which wound its way out of the forest, “I think Hyunjin’s really gonna like him.”

“Thanks.” Jisung dug into his cuticles with his fangs, tearing off the translucent outer layer of his skin. Chan pulled Jisung’s hand away from his mouth, rough thumb caressing Jisung’s own.

“Don't do that,” Chan muttered and kept driving. This was pretty routine, grocery shopping about once a month. Jisung stared out the window for most of it, and thankfully the weather was nice and roads were almost empty. People must have been out working. Jisung still thought about that sometimes, working. What things would be like if he went to school and worked in some office or whatever people did. 

He was scouted for this in highschool, always went hunting with his dad so he was good enough to get picked out by the recruiters. That’s when he met Chan, when he was only 16 and the older man had a sort of football coach-y camaraderie with him. He remembered when Chan gave him his first cigarette after he shot down 4 ducks in a row, remembered the weight of the bow in his hand and the weight of Chan’s hand on his shoulder. 

_ “Here, you’ve earned it.”  _

The cigarette felt important then. He remembered marveling at the smooth paper, coughing when the acrid smoke filled his lungs. It tasted so much worse to be smoking then. His nails were still clean, and when the smoke curled out between his lips he watched its every motion. Back then, Chan’s touches still felt like he was earning the approval of someone who mattered.

Now he loaded his items onto the conveyor belt and ignored the elders comments: “You know, you oughta eat more produce,” “You shouldn’t smoke so much, it’s bad for your teeth.” As if Chan wasn’t the reason he fucking smoked in the first place. But he was a good boss, Jisung reminded himself, he paid well. 

Jisung stared at a tv screen playing some news station by the customer service desk. Another bombing somewhere Jisung didn’t recognize. Minimal civilian casualties. Jisung thought about the leak in his tent and about the fairy. That pointed nose, those sweet pouty lips. He never thought about them so much. This was his job, capture fairies and watch over them while they’re being trained. But Minho was pretty, he guessed, something different in the way his dark eyes looked out. Like he knew everything that was happening, and he was just so tired of it. Jisung was getting pretty tired too. He stood there chewing a nail until Chan rolled the squeaking grocery cart up next to him, loaded with bags. “Ready?” his boss asked, ruffling Jisung’s hair like he was still that 16 year old with the heavy bow.

-

The prince sure did take his sweet time. Minho was used to Chan, to being forced to the ground with a dirty hand or muzzle clamped tightly over his mouth, but the prince was so oddly gentle. His hands were soft and warm. They smelled like flowers, and he brushed his thumbs slowly over Minho’s cheeks. “God, you really are a pretty one aren’t you?” Hyunjin murmured, tilting Minho’s head up to meet his big dark eyes. Minho only flinched a little when Hyunjin pulled him in for a kiss.

It was nice. Minho didn’t want it to be, he was tired of being used like this, but the prince’s lips were soft and warm and it felt good to taste something besides pop tarts and his own blood. The prince parted Minho’s lips with his own, breathing softly, sucking a little on Minho’s bottom lip before he pulled away. Hyunjin’s large hand came up to Minho’s face again, smooth thumb pushing at Minho’s bottom lip, just running over him. “You’re a good kisser,” the prince said with the faintest ghost of a smile across his face. His hand trailed down the fairy’s neck, brushing gently at his soft waist before pulling away.

The prince took his shirt off like it was nothing, smiling as Minho watched him reveal pale, smooth skin and two dull pink nipples. He pulled slowly at the bottom of Minho’s shirt, helping him out of it before pulling him in for another kiss. Another moment of plush lips and gentle breath, fingertips finally tracing over all the itchy scars. Scratching lightly at all the parts he couldn’t scratch himself. How long had it been since someone made Minho feel good like this? 

“You can touch me, you know,” the prince breathed against his lips, hands wrapping around Minho’s wrists to move them towards his own waist. And Minho did, slowly at first, hands shaking a little when he let them settle on the prince’s hips. His skin was so warm and Minho could feel the raised spot of one perfectly-placed mole right on his left hip. Hyunjin was kissing him a little more hungrily now, his tongue wandering into Minho’s mouth, hands squeezing the soft flesh at his hips. Minho didn’t want this but the prince was so warm and smelled so good and he was melting, hands slowly crawling up the other’s back.

And then he felt them.

Right at Hyunjin’s shoulder blades, two thin little nubs. Like fingernails, smooth and sharp with these thinner sheets coming off of them. They were tiny, maybe 5 inches at their longest point, but they still made Minho flinch and pull away.

“What’s wrong?” Hyunjin smirked and grabbed Minho’s hand again, placing it right over that disgusting little ridge and forcing his fingers to stay there, “You remember wings, don't you?” 

“You’re not supposed to...” Minho couldn’t even think, but the prince swallowed his words with another kiss.

“What, centuries of fucking with fairies and you don't think anyone would get one pregnant?” It was wrong. That wasn’t supposed to be possible. Humans and fairies couldn’t mate, their kids would be deformed and sick and Hyunjin was so beautiful. 

The wings were grotesque, twitching every once in a while, the skin around them jagged and bumpy. Weirdly sticky to the touch. Minho hated it, but Hyunjin held his hands there. “Don't be jealous, baby, I don't want to make you get trained again,” the prince growled, so Minho shivered and let his hands remain there, sharp nails gently scraping the edges off the wings. Soon enough his hands were able to travel towards the safety of Hyunjin’s lower back and the prince was sucking on his neck with teeth just slightly too sharp for a human.

Minho closed his eyes, moaned softly, and tried desperately not to think.

-

He never wanted to bring Chan home. It wasn’t the first time, the older man often brought him back to his mother’s house so he could do some laundry and take a shower. He was a good boss. Apparently, back when Chan was a hunter, they didn’t get to see their families at all. Too many secrets. It was very generous for Chan to let Jisung see his mom. Her hugs were always warm and comforting, Jisung too jammed up to cry but he knew the tears would come out if he let them. His mom didn’t like Chan. She always greeted him with a handshake and a grim nod before letting him go downstairs and deal with Jisung’s laundry. 

Jisung took this time to wander the house. It was beautiful really, small and cozy with decorations all over the walls. His father was a hunter, not like Jisung was though. His father hunted deer and birds, little trophies all over the house. Jisung gravitated towards a shelf of his father’s things, little teeth and shiny blue butterfly wings in jars, a book full of photographs he took out on the field. There was one he always focused on, the blurred form of some human figure with wings and dark eyes. Everyone was afraid of fairies, but this one just looked curious, peeking.

“Y’know, your room’s still all set up here if you ever want to come back.”

“Ma...” Jisung flipped past the picture, to one of him and his father. They looked happy, leaning up against each other with a rifle slung over his father’s back and a dead duck in Jisung’s hand. His little fingers clung to the animal’s neck like a toy.

“I know. It’s an honor to work for the king, I’ve just been listening to the news lately and I worry about you. It’s never too late to change paths.”

“It’s all propaganda, ma. You know that.” Chan was a good boss. He paid well. His mother’s house was paid off and his father was buried in the most expensive coffin they could buy, with a big elaborate gravestone. Jisung’s mother handed him a towel and he climbed those old familiar stairs to the shower.

When Jisung showered, the water ran brown at first. He brushed under blackened fingernails and scrubbed the grease from his matted hair. It took a few rounds of washing for the smell to go away fully. Jisung spent the time thinking about that fairy. He wondered if the “breaking in” had worked, or if Minho was still fighting back. Honestly, he hoped it hadn’t. The prince deserved a good bite, acting like hot shit when he’s just some rich asshole. Jisung could use a cigarette. 

He shut the water off, wrapped a towel around his waist, and moved to the sink to brush his teeth the customary 6 times. Far from enough to make up for lost time, but he figured it was worth something. The gums around gold fangs were bleeding, something loose about the teeth, but Jisung kept brushing and hoped it didn’t matter much, spitting orange into the sink.

After his fifth round, the door opened and shut with a dull squeak.

“Look at you.” Jisung spat, and tried not to shudder when his boss’s hands landed on his bare waist, “Nice and clean, huh?” Jisung nodded, his eyes meeting Chan’s in the mirror. The older man smelled his hair, fingers digging into Jisung’s skin a little harder. “I still remember when you had your first cigarette, and now here you are.” Chans fingers traced the lines of Jisung’s tattoo, the outline of two butterfly wings, delicate and blue like the ones his father kept in the jar, right over his shoulder blades. “Just like one of them.” Chan pushed Jisung forward so his stomach pressed against the sink. “What am I gonna pay for next? Sharp nails? More teeth?” Chan’s hips ground against Jisungs ass, and Jisung could feel him getting hard already. 

Chan was a good boss. Nobody’s perfect.

“Keep quiet for me, alright boy? We don’t want your mother to hear us.” Jisung stared in the mirror and tried not to wince when his towel dropped to the floor and Chan’s hand closed over his mouth. 

-

“Bite me.” Minho froze. Hyunjin had him laid on his back, concrete scratching at his scars and his legs pushed gently towards his chest. The sun was setting, and fireflies were coming out.

“What?” Minho murmured, breath even despite the prince’s slow thrusts inside of him. Hyunjin smiled and kissed him again, speaking against his lips,

“Bite me.” His large hands were heavy on Minho’s hips, “I know you can do it.”

Minho paused, eyes wide and confused. Was Hyunjin trying to get him muzzled again? The prince’s hand tangled in his hair and pulled Minho’s face up against his neck, “Bite me.”

So Minho did. He bit down hard, Hyujin’s hot blood flooding his mouth. There was something off about the taste, something bitter and oddly fibrous in the way Hyunjin’s flesh broke between his teeth. Hyunjin loved it. He let out a strangled grunt, pinning the fairy down and fucking him faster and harder. His blood was dripping on Minho’s face, getting in his eyes. It smelled rotten, and Minho’s back was getting uncomfortable on the concrete, but Hyunjin kept going, dark blood running over his unblemished skin.

“God, fuck.” Hyunjin grabbed at the wound at his neck, scratching until his fingers landed on a bloodsoaked green leaf. He tugged hard, let it drop on Minho’s chest and went searching in his neck for another, groaning low under his breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the prince moaned, pulling tiny leaves from his neck as his cock drove deeper inside of Minho. His soft pale hands were all red now, scratching at Minho’s hips or his own skin. His eyes were dark and tear-filled, rhythm unfaltering in spite of the wound. 

The prince wasn’t beautiful. He was falling apart. Minho watched the fireflies over Hyunjin’s shoulder as foul blood ran into his eyes.

-

“Good boy, so fucking tight for me baby.” Chan was a good boss. His fingers tasted foul and dry in Jisung’s mouth. He paid well. His cock drove into Jisung’s ass, making him bleed. Nobody’s perfect. His thumb pushed against Jisung’s gold teeth, irritating his swollen gums and making him whine. “God you’re so fucking perfect.” The older man pushed Jisung harder against the vanity, and he couldn’t help but cry out in pain when his forehead smacked against the mirror. “

Shut the fuck up,” Chan spat, slamming Jisung’s head against the mirror again. Jisung’s vision was black from tears. His hands groped along the countertop, finding anything to hang onto, anything to make it not hurt so bad. 

Chan laughed and forced Jisung’s face against the mirror. Everything hurt. His mouth was full of blood. Why wouldn’t Chan stop? He was a good boss. He had to stop.

Jisung’s nails scratched the counter. His hand landed on a pair of scissors, and he turned and plunged them into Chan’s neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks! U saw it in chapter 1 but here it is again:
> 
> Twitter: @BiggBoyParty  
CC: @BigBoyParty


	3. Blood // -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J!sung cleans up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! it's a shortie but there's plenty more to come in future chapters.

Jisung shouldn’t have been surprised by blood anymore. He had been hunting for years, knew the river that would come spilling out if you shot a deer from the right angle, or the little streams down a fairy’s back after being dragged. He knew the smell of it, knew how much soap it took to scrub off the pavement and how long it took to scrub out from under his fingernails. Jisung was well-versed in blood. Jisung even liked it sometimes. But here it was all wrong.

It was all over him. Plus Chan. He was a good boss. He had sputtered, grabbing at the scissors and swinging wildly after they sunk into his neck, but it was too late. Chan bled a lot, pouring over Jisung’s body and splattering his mother’s vanity. It looked so wrong, red droplets in stark contrast to the white of his toothbrush bristles. After the initial fight, Chan’s body slumped against Jisung’s. He was so heavy. His bodyweight pinned Jisung to the vanity, and Jisung had to hold back the choked sob that came from his throat when he pushed his boss off of him. Chan’s body hit the floor with a too-loud thunk.

Fuck.

Jisung’s eyes were wide in the mirror. He barely recognized them. There was blood all over his neck and shoulders, across the side of his face. The scissors were still in Chan’s neck, but he couldn’t look. He couldn’t think right now. His hands were shaking.

God, he needed a fucking cigarette.

Jisung rinsed his hands off in the sink, trying not to get blood anywhere else in the room, and moved back to the shower again. Just a quick rinse, he just needed to wash himself off. He needed to get Chan off of his neck and face and out from under his fingernails and off of his thighs, between his legs. Off off off. He needed him off. Jisung stepped over his body. It made sense to him to drape his towel over the older man, hide his face at least. If Chan wasn’t dead, Jisung would think about how this is the only time he’s ever seen Chan afraid, but Chan is dead. Jisung killed him.

Jisung had absolutely no idea how long he was in the shower. The whole time, his hands shook and heart raced. He figured it was quick, it must have been, he was rushing. But all he really knew was that when he got out he had to scrub the blood from the vanity and tiles and mirror and figure out what to do with Chan and figure out what to do with his mother and figure out how to keep himself from being killed. 

Jisung worked fast, soaking toilet paper, towels, anything he could find, with Chan’s blood and throwing them into the trash can. Jisung knew blood, he knew how to clean it up, and the stink of it didn’t even register to him anymore.

As he buffed the blood from the mirror, Jisung watched himself. His arm was slender and tan, ribs visible, face worn in that way showers wouldn’t fix anymore. He was so small. Has he always been this small? It was taking more energy than he remembered to wipe little circles in the mirror, or to spread the toothbrushes out under cold water until all the blood ran out. Everything took so much energy. 

When the room was clean, Jisung stepped into clean clothes and stared at Chan’s body for a long time. He unclipped the plastic shower curtain and, trying to look as little as possible, rolled his boss’s body in it. He opened the door, looked both ways, and dragged him down the hall where Jisung’s laundry was waiting in big bags in his room. Jisung wasn’t thinking at this point, just moving, tearing through a bag of laundry and pulling out half the clothes, pulling the fabric awkwardly over Chan’s wrapped up form and trying to maneuver him so the drawstring would pull shut. At least then he could get him out the door. After that, he didn’t know what.

“Heading out already?” Jisung’s mother asked, seeing him stumbling towards the front door with a particularly lumpy and heavy-looking laundry bag.

“Yep! The prince is all done, it’s time to head back!” Jisung was right, but he didn’t know it then. All he knew was keep moving. A few more laundry bags, piled right on top of Chan, and he was ready to go. He turned back to his mother and hugged her for longer than he had in years before leaving, planting a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be back,” Jisung said, but he would not. 

Jisung was going to die.

Jisung drove fast, and poorly. He was smoking too, turning the truck so fast it squealed as he gunned it from his home back out into the woods. A younger him might have thought he looked cool, driving erratically with his cigarette dangling out the window between two fingers. Now he just felt kind of stupid.

His teeth hurt.

Minho wondered if it always ended up like this. The prince being carried out on a stretcher, groaning and digging his fingernails into the hole in his neck. He wondered if the pavement was always covered in leaves and dark blood afterwards. Unfortunately, he had enjoyed it. At least parts of it. He liked the way Hyunjin looked at him, and the feeling of his large hands at the small of his back. He didn’t like the blood though, and that was everywhere now. Why did everything have to be so fucking terrible?

Climbing back up to his preferred spot among the branches was challenging. His legs shook, and his hands were kind of slippery with blood and whatever was oozing out around Hyunjin’s underdeveloped wings. Once Minho was up there, he held a flower to his face in an attempt at covering up the foul smell of Hyunjin’s blood. On the ground, he saw the hunter enter, engaged in brisk conversation with the prince and his armed guards. He looked agitated, scratching at his arms and biting his cuticles. After a while, the prince waved his arms and his entourage carried him out.

It was getting darker out by the second, but Jisung couldn’t sleep. Minho watched through heavy eyelids as the hunter scrubbed at the concrete with soapy water and a rag. He looked panicked, and so young after having bathed. His bracelets jingled lightly on his wrists. From where Minho was watching above, Jisung almost looked like a beetle, crawling around on his hands and knees and furiously scrubbing the pavement.

Jisung needed a cigarette. He dropped the rag for a moment, fishing around in his pockets and sticking one between his lips, lighting it anxiously. His hands were still shaking. The lighter dropped from his hands and skittered across the pavement, but Jisung was already moving on to the next patch of blood. Soon, the sun would set and Jisung wouldn’t even be able to see where the stains were anymore. There wasn’t usually this much blood. Something must have gone wrong, but Jisung was too busy scrubbing until his arms shook and sweat sprung up all over his body to do anything about it. Jisung was going to die. 

His teeth hurt.

Minho wasn’t sure why, but he felt compelled to climb down from his perch. His feet landed softly on the concrete floor, which was warm and wet from Jisung’s washing. He sat at the base of the tree and watched Jisung move in circles around the enclosure, smoking and scrubbing diligently. It was almost satisfying to watch the hunter like this, scrubbing the floor desperately and scooting around on his hands and knees. Minho drifted off occasionally, watching the fireflies drift up from the ground and listening to the quiet jingle of Jisung’s bracelets and boots.

Jisung finished his cigarette and stubbed it out on the ground, flicking it between the enclosure’s iron bars. He couldn’t see the blood anymore, could barely see two feet in front of him now that the sun had set. It must have been cloudy. Jisung brought a hand to his mouth absentmindedly to chew on his cuticles, as always, and found that his tooth was loose. He pressed gently at his gold fang and tasted a rush of blood running over his tongue. He winced. His teeth had gotten sore before, but never like this. Jisung’s thumb found its way into his mouth again, tugging on the tooth until he heard something snap a little. It was loose. Blood ran over his lip, splattering a little on the pavement again, and he scrubbed it up diligently, his tongue troubling the loose tooth.

The fairy looked so peaceful. He must have just been tired, Jisung figured, but it still looked nice to be asleep. Chan was still dead in the trunk. All his laundry was there too. Plus the food. Jisung tugged at his tooth, staring blankly off as he heard the squelch and crunch of metal in his gums. He blinked away a couple tears and remembered his boss’s hands on his face. Dry and rough on his cheeks. Shoving past his lips and caressing his teeth. Blood flowed down Jisung’s chin. He twisted harder. Chan was a good boss. He could hear his bracelets now, jingling softly under the snap of tendons in his teeth. Minho was snoring softly. The fireflies were out, drifting softly around as Jisung tugged, finally, ripping the metal tooth free.

His hand fell from his face slowly, holding the tooth in one hand, and he approached the sleeping fairy. Jisung didn’t know what he was doing. Gently, he pressed Minho’s knee with his boot, wiggling it until the fairy’s eyes fluttered open. Jisung knew the glare that Minho gave him, but it hurt this time, for some reason. Minho let out a little grunt, eyes as wide and black as always.

“You wanna get out of here?” Jisung said, his voice hushed and broken. Minho just stared, his brows wrinkling up in confusion. Jisung grabbed Minho’s arm and took a deep breath, “I need your help.”

**Author's Note:**

> Say hi if u want to! I love being Friendly and Fun  
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